A Flash of Empathy
by SarahBear1214
Summary: When Loki runs into a bit of trouble, he decides to seek help from one man he can be certain won't kill him for it. Well, nobody ever said Loki had many friends throughout the galaxy. Meanwhile, Steve gets a rather unpleasant surprise in the form of an injured, psychotic Asgardian trickster. No slash. Warning: spoilers for any MCU movie may occur! On hiatus
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the first fic I've posted, so please leave some reviews with advice, opinions, critiques, etc.! Try not to completely crush my spirit if you do.**

 **Disclaimer: Much as I love them, sadly I do not own any of these characters.**

Baby-sitting the God of Mischief was the last thing Steve wanted to do that day.

It really wasn't fair. He hadn't done anything wrong. He hadn't created a deranged killer robot, or brought a giant metal death machine to New Mexico, or made a nuclear deterrent out of glowing blue space tech.

And yet he always seemed to be sucked right into whatever planet destroying mess was about to… well, destroy the planet. After the experimentally mutilated Nazi tyrant, the alien invasion over New York, the world conquering parasite organization, and the psychotic apocalyptic android, Steve felt 100% _done_. For once, he wished he would be called on to handle something _normal_ , like a human terrorist cell, or some nice mortal serial killers.

Which just goes to show exactly how _weird_ Steve's life had become.

Needless to say, when Steve opened his apartment door at 2 AM to find the insane Asgardian trickster, he was not at all pleased. He was a lot of other things: shocked, angry, apprehensive, tense- but pleased was definitely not one.

For a second after opening the door, Steve was simply too stunned to do anything. His mouth gaped open and for the brief moment of shock his eyes took in Loki. The god looked terrible. His hair was messy and hung across his gaunt face in filthy tangles—not at all the smooth, slicked back style he had sported the first time they met. He wore what looked like his typical garb of green and black—except this time it was torn and hung in tatters over his thin frame. His wide eyes were an overly bright green, underlined with dark shadows on his pale face. Steve's eyes were drawn to the most startling change in Loki's appearance. In the center of his stomach, obscured by a dirty, gnarly hand was a stain of dark crimson. The wound was covered with an improvised bandage made from a grimy white t-shirt, which could not possibly be sanitary.

Despite Loki's messed up appearance, the first thing Steve did upon recovering his wits was slam the demigod against the nearest wall. He was _not_ about to be tricked by whatever magical illusion Loki had cooked up.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" he snarled, hand moving to draw the knife he thankfully was in the habit of carrying around. Not that it would do much good against an Asgardian, but it made Steve feel better.

Loki smiled, albeit in a rather exhausted and pathetic way. "I hope I'm not intruding, good Captain?" he purred, voice strained yet still impressively smooth. "As you may see, I have run into a bit of a spat." He grimaced, gesturing vaguely at his bleeding wound.

"What, you think I'm an idiot?" Steve growled. "Like you're actually injured. Why are you here, Loki? What's your play?" It wasn't that Steve expected Loki to actually tell him anything. Really, he just wasn't sure what to do otherwise. Steve had fought Loki before, and it hadn't exactly gone over well. And that was when Steve had his shield and was prepared to fight. If Loki really wanted to, he could take down the Captain right now, assuming this "injured" game was just an illusion, which it obviously was. What Steve really needed to do was contact the other Avengers, and let them know their favorite God of Mischief had returned. At the same time, he certainly wasn't going to let Loki wander through a building full of civilians unwatched. Which left him in a bit of a dilemma as to what to do.

"There's no play." Loki said simply, his sly sarcasm vanished. "It is a rather long story, and not one I am inclined to repeat, especially not to _you_. I—I know I am not owed anything by you. But I need help, badly. And I have nowhere else to go."

"Bullshit."

"Language, Captain."

Steve's scowl deepened at the reminder of the rather infuriating inside joke Loki had stumbled upon.

Loki sighed. "I get that I'm the last person you want to see. Trust me, the feeling is mutual. But I'm not here on some mission of world conquest or planetary subjugation. If I was, the last thing I would do is waltz right up to the enemy's door and declare my return."

Steve arched an eyebrow in skepticism. "Yeah, what kind of idiot would get himself purposefully captured in order to manipulate and destroy his enemies from the inside?"

Loki frowned. "Okay, fair enough. But that's not the case this time. As far as I'm concerned, you can keep your paltry little planet. I have far greater concerns weighing upon me. I swear, I mean you no harm."

"Prove it."

"Is the gaping wound in my chest not enough?"

Steve snorted.

"Apparently not. Look, I wish I could offer you some evidence, but there really isn't much. Hard to prove something when everyone knows you can just magic up whatever illusion you want. But call your little Avengers if you wish. Keep me in your line of site at all times. I really don't care. All I know is I need to get some aid, and soon, or I'm not going to like what comes next. And this is the only place I can think of to get it."

A few seconds passed while Steve glowered. "Give me one reason I should help you," he finally said.

Loki smiled softly. "Because if you don't, I'll die. And I don't think you're one to let anyone die if you can help it, no matter how villainous they might be. It's why I came here. I'm gambling on your righteousness, Captain… and I don't think I'm wrong."

Damn it. Steve hated it when villains were right.

Besides, his whole dilemma was needing to monitor Loki while calling the Avengers, and here Loki was offering to allow him to do that exact thing. It would be rude to decline fate's kind gift.

With one last glower, Steve released the front of Loki's shirt, stepping back. "Get inside," he sighed, a headache already forming in his skull. Since when did he become a go-to home for imperiled super-villains?

It was as if Loki couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face at his victory. He limped into the apartment and Steve followed, closing the door after a quick glance to ensure they remained unnoticed.

This was going to be a long night.

Steve couldn't help but be a little pissed that the first thing Loki did upon entering the apartment was make a beeline straight for the couch and flop down. Sure it wasn't the nicest couch, but he still didn't want evil Asgardian blood all over it. However, beyond his mild annoyance, Steve couldn't help but feel a bit surprised. Loki really did look pretty exhausted. He lay down and closed his eyes as though he had just run a marathon through the desert, and the soft couch was a blissful oasis. Steve frowned slightly, before remembering that this was probably all a trick, anyway.

Steve snatched up his cell phone, dialing Avengers Tower. Tony didn't pick up, but fortunately F.R.I.D.A.Y. did, and the A.I. took his message, assuring him she would deliver it to Tony ASAP, no matter how much he begged to sleep. Since most of the Avengers were residing at Avengers Tower, Steve felt confident they would all get word. He also sent notice out to S.H.I.E.L.D, who promised to immediately prepare a plan and facility for containing Loki, as well as contact Thor and ensure backup was dispatched to Steve's place right away.

Steve pictured with some dark amusement the panic that must be occurring at S.H.I.E.L.D. at this moment. The demolished organization had just got its feet back under itself, and now it was expected to deal with a threat it could barely stop while at its full power. He could practically hear the stress ridden phone calls, the tense scurrying of agents back and forth among the large facility, and most distinctly, Nick Fury's irritated " _Son of a bitch!"_ when he got the bad news. It almost made Steve smile, and then made him feel immediately guilty for his humor. This was by no means a funny situation.

Closing the cell phone with a quick _snap_ Steve glanced once again towards the worn out demigod. Loki was curled up into a ball on the couch; eyes closed tight, his limbs twitching as though he were having a nightmare. Steve cautiously approached his strange guest, coming to kneel right next to the prone villain. _Some threat,_ Steve couldn't help but think. Of course, he knew Loki was a danger no matter how vulnerable he seemed to be. Still, he didn't miss the irony that all of the stress and panic certainly occurring at S.H.I.E.L.D. was for a guy who'd crashed within ten seconds of entering the apartment.

Once again, Steve's eyes were drawn to the wound in Loki's side. Could Loki maintain an illusion even when he was asleep? Was he really asleep or was he just pretending? Nevertheless, the gash looked pretty bad; blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage and it could not be hygienic to put that filthy shirt on an open wound. Steve thought of the sterile bandages and alcohol he had stashed in the laundry room.

 _Damn it._

Fetching the medical supplies, Steve returned and carefully unwound the shirt from Loki's torso. He expected Loki to wake up and was quite surprised when he just slept along. With the "bandage" gone, Steve could clearly see the injury. It definitely looked infected, and the veins around it were dark. Steve had no idea how long ago Loki had been injured (assuming that was even the case) but the wound looked pretty recent and unhealed. Wasn't Loki supposed to have some kind of super regeneration powers?

Steve quickly cleaned and dressed the wound, expecting at every second for Loki to wake, but he never did. By the time he was finished, Steve was in a thoroughly annoyed mood: he was not paid to play nurse to crazy super-villains. He was further irritated by his inability to allow Loki's wound to just fester. Not that he disliked his tendency towards compassion; in fact, it was his most prized quality. He was just disconcerted by how predictable and easy to manipulate it made him. Really, how was it that the murderous alien that attacked New York thought it was perfectly okay to just show up at Captain America's home and crash on his couch? Not to mention receive medical assistance. Was Steve really that soft?

The Captain sighed, dropping onto the chair and rubbing at his forehead. He was definitely going to need some kind of vacation after this. Do superheroes get vacation time? Probably not.

Glancing at the clock, Steve noted that cleaning and dressing Loki's wound had taken about 30 minutes. He wasn't sure how long it would take the Avengers to reach DC, but he imagined Ironman at least could cover the distance in less than an hour. Then again, who the hell knows how long it will take to even get Tony off his butt to leave. Steve thought about it for a second, and decided that it would be at least another half an hour before he could expect any backup.

Steve decided that restraining a sleeping super-villain for thirty minutes wasn't the worse task he has had to accomplish. As long as Loki stayed unconscious.

In accordance with the rest of Steve's luck, Loki awoke about 10 minutes later. How it was he slept straight through alcohol on an open wound one second and then woke up naturally the next was beyond the Captain. He supposed it must have been some kind of freaky Asgardian pain tolerance.

When Loki first awoke, he examined the fresh bandages on his wound with a peculiar, blank expression on his face. For a second it almost seemed he was about to say something, and Steve prayed fervently he wouldn't. Thankfully, he didn't. A couple of seconds later the strange expression left Loki's face and he returned to his annoying, sarcastic self.

"What is the delay Captain? Your man of iron stuck in traffic?"

Steve frowned. "We don't exactly have instant teleportation here on Earth. Sorry if that's primitive of us. Don't worry though, they'll be here soon."

"Oh I'm sure" breathed Loki. "In the meantime, I'm rather hungry. It's been a couple weeks since I've eaten, and the hunger is truly starting to gnaw at me."

Steve stared at the demigod incredulously. "A couple of _weeks_ since you've eaten?"

Loki shrugged. "Well not quite. I stole a sandwich from some mortal when I first landed on Midgard."

"Okay, but still. _Two weeks_? How are you even alive right now? You know what, don't answer that. Let me guess: Asgardians don't require food as frequently as mortals?"

Loki smiled. "Now you're beginning to catch on Captain. My body isn't nearly as weak or dependent as you mortals'. Although let me say, two weeks? Still a long time to not eat. Just saying. So, how about you go bring me some of your Midgardian food?"

Steve flushed, a surge of indignation arising in him. "You've _got_ to be kidding me. You've already invaded my planet, commandeered my apartment, and ruined my couch. I am _not_ getting you food!"

"It was worth a shot." Loki slowly dragged himself off of the couch and stood up. It took awhile. Even as he strode towards the kitchen, he looked like he could barely walk. Steve snorted. What a drama queen.

In about five minutes Loki strode back into the living room with Steve's leftover Chinese food and sat once more upon the couch, this time managing to not fall asleep immediately. "I must admit, for all of the faults and inadequacies of Midgard, your cuisine is certainly not one of them. Far more interesting and diverse than on Asgard. All they eat there is roasted meat and bread."

"I was planning on eating that."

"'The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry'" quoted Loki.

Steve raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Uh, okay. And how exactly do you know Steinbeck?"

Loki laughed, "That's not Steinbeck. It's from an old Midgardian poem. John Steinbeck named his novel after the line from the poem."

Steve stared at the demigod, and Loki shrugged. "I have lived over a thousand years, Captain. That's a lot of time to have on one's hands. I have rather a bit of knowledge on a diverse array of subjects, one of them being the literature of many realms, including Midgard. I took a particular interest in it about a few decades ago, and read quite a few of your mortals' 'classic' works. I admit, I was very impressed with Shakespeare. 'Tis no wonder his works are still so prevalent."

Steve continued to stare at the trickster, this time in surprise rather than skepticism. He had known that Thor and his brother were several centuries old, yet it was always rather astounding to hear a thousand year life mentioned as casually as the weather. _And they're both still so young_ , thought Steve. Even more surprising was Loki's confession to liking Midgardian literature. He had always assumed Loki scorned every aspect of Earth, his self-important sense of superiority preventing him from seeing the planet as anything other than a puny world to be conquered. Sure, he was still an arrogant, conceited jackass, but there was something bizarrely sensitive and unassuming in the mental image of Loki reading Of Mice and Men.

" _What_?" Loki snapped, and Steve realized he had been staring at the demigod like an idiot.

"Nothing."

Silence descended upon the room, but Steve couldn't help but notice that Loki seemed a lot more annoyed than he had just a few minutes ago. Steve glanced towards the clock; Tony and the others couldn't be that much farther away. As Steve glanced back absentmindedly at the wall, a detail that had been gnawing at him, noted but discarded, crept to the foremost of his mind.

"You and I both know that there is nothing we can do for you that you can't do yourself." Steve glanced towards Loki, searching for a reaction.

"Hmm" was the only response he got, Loki's eyes unfocused and distant.

"You're not here for help. If you really needed that you could have gone to Asgard. I'm sure they have a hell of a lot better medical technology than Earth does."

Loki turned his emerald eyes upon Steve, realizing that the Captain wasn't going to let this topic go. "Perhaps I considered going to Asgard, but decided that spending an eternity in a mind-numbing cell wouldn't be very fun."

Steve's eyes narrowed. "Oh, you mean the cell you're supposed to be in right now? That's another thing, how did you even escape?"

Loki laughed sharply, bitterness and dark humor clouding his voice. "Now the answer to _that_ question is quite interesting. Would you believe me if I said your precious buddy Thor let me out?"

Steve doubted his eyes could get narrow any further. He was practically squinting at this point. "No," he said bluntly. "Unless you explain."

Loki waved a hand dismissively, voice infused with exasperation. "I'm in no mood for such tales. It really is an exhaustingly long story. But rest assured, good Captain, my brother had his reasons of nobility and necessity and all of that other nonsense swimming in his head. 'The lesser of two evils' I believe you mortals call it."

Steve didn't really push the subject. He was sure whatever story Loki was taunting him with he could get from Thor soon enough. Right now he had a more important question in mind.

"Okay, so you didn't want to be locked away in Asgard. What the hell do you think is gonna happen to you here? We're just gonna give you a band aid and a lollipop and send you on your merry, psychotic way?"

Steve expected a quick response, some logical story invented and rehearsed to perfection. A motive, an intention, clear cut and sensible reasons for his actions. He definitely did not expect Loki to sit there with a distressed concentration upon his face, as though he were quickly trying to think up a tale. Steve waited while Loki sat in silence, gears clearly turning in his head. It wasn't that Steve was surprised that Loki was making everything up. What was unnerving was that he didn't seem to have prepared his story at all. He was pretty much making it up on the spot. And while Steve didn't know Loki very well, he knew enough to be aware that this was quite unusual for the trickster. Loki was a planner, a schemer; he wouldn't put himself into a situation until he had the upper hand, was in control—unless he was desperate.

As if the whole situation wasn't convoluted enough.

Finally Loki spoke. "It is a whole lot easier to escape imprisonment on Midgard than it is on Asgard."

Steve didn't miss a beat. "So you intend to use us then run off again?"

"…pretty much. Don't pretend to be surprised, using people is kind of my thing."

Loki smirked, but Steve just stared straight and unflinchingly at him. When he spoke his voice was ice, sharp and merciless and without a trace of sympathy.

"I'm not an idiot Loki. You're planning something; it's in your nature. I don't know what it is, but I'm going to find out, and I'm going to stop you."

He _had_ to be planning something. There was _no way_ he thought he could come, weary and injured, to the Avengers, the most powerful force on Earth, the team that had already defeated him and an entire army of aliens—and then receive medical assistance and waltz out without a hitch. Loki was far too cunning, too devious. There had to be a twist, a plot, something Steve couldn't see now but something he damn well will search for until he finds it. He opened his mouth to continue, but the words died in his throat.

Steve struggled to place the look that had come over Loki's face. It wasn't his typical sarcasm, or bitterness, or confusion, or that look of concentration that had appeared as he thought up his answers. It was almost… sorrowful. A bizarre expression of regret and melancholy, a remorseful look that had no place upon the face of one such as Loki. For a brief second, so fleeting that Steve silently wondered if he had merely imagined it, their eyes met, and for once Loki's held no arrogance or disdain. It was as if he were pleading, a silent apology stirring within his eyes, unspoken yet clear as day.

The moment left as soon as it came. Steve closed his eyes and shook his head, the strange instant leaving behind a whirl of confusion. Once again, silence had descended upon the room, this one unusually still and slightly awkward. What had they been talking about?

Steve remembered just as a sharp knock pierced the silence. Abruptly, all thoughts of the bizarre moment fled as Steve realized who the knock must be. Sure enough, a second later the energetic voice of Tony Stark burst into the room.

"Cap? You in there? I'm coming in, weapons locked and loaded."

The door slammed open and, sure enough, Stark entered, fully enclosed in the Iron Man suit, weapons out and pointed immediately at Loki.

"Damn. I really had hoped this was some elaborate prank. You know, like revenge for the cupcake incident. Should have known better. You're not that vengeful.

"'Sup Reindeer Games? Man, you look like crap. Did you do something to your hair?"

Loki smirked, back in his element of sardonic quips and ridicule. "Personal styling, courtesy of murderous aliens."

"Murderous aliens? Sounds like your kind of folk. Oh and by the way, we have the place surrounded, so don't think you're gonna get away."

"Oh I wouldn't dream of it." Loki exhaled.

"Of course, if you're here, it's probably cause you've got some evil scheme cooked up in your psycho little head, so I guess you wouldn't want to escape. Oh, well. Still not an option."

Unsurprisingly, Loki went off with them with little resistance. His weapon of choice for the day appeared to be sarcastic insults and self centered complaining. They loaded him up onto a quinjet, inside of which waited Natasha and Wanda. Walking to the quinjet, it certainly didn't seem like Steve's apartment was surrounded. Either Stark was bluffing, or the other Avengers were hidden. Steve suspected the former.

Natasha was flying the quinjet, and barely spared Loki a glance as he entered the ship. The glance she spared was full of hostility and threat. Wanda, however, gazed only with cautious curiosity at the Asgardian. She had never met Loki before, but certainly had heard stories of him. Loki smiled in greeting before taking a seat across from Tony.

As they descended in the air, Steve watched his slowly disappearing apartment, and reflected on the night. He knew that whatever was happening, whatever Loki had in the works, was certain to be big. Whether he was up to it, whether he even wanted to face what may be coming, didn't matter. With regret, he thought of Bucky; as much as he craved to continue his search for his friend, it would have to wait. Bucky's face flashed in his mind, and a surge of hatred rose up in him for Loki, selfishly using his friends, taking advantage of his compassion, knowing that they couldn't say no. Whatever he was planning, Steve would be ready for it. He wouldn't let Loki's evil ambition cost any more lives. And yet, as steely determination settled within the Captain, the unbidden image of Loki's eyes for that brief, strange second rose in his mind. For a reason Steve could not place, be it a gut instinct or intuition, he could not shake the suspicion that the sorrow in Loki's eyes had been genuine. Steve knew what Loki was: a villain, selfish, egotistical, insane. And yet, for that one infinitesimal moment, that brief second of clarity and connection, a thought had snuck into Steve's head, sly and relentless. The traitorous thought that maybe, just maybe, underneath all of the treachery and manipulation, there was some fleeting regret, sincere and suppressed, struggling to be heard amongst the swirling insanity and consuming malice of the twisted being that was Thor's brother.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This was originally a one-shot that I chose to expand into a chapter fic, so the first chapter is significantly longer than any of the others. Like, this one is half the size- but hopefully it's good! Please review!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything. At all. That would be Marvel, Stan Lee, Disney, etc. But certainly not me.**

By the time the quinjet landed, Tony was beginning to regret that he had ever even become Iron Man. Sure, the attention was awesome. The babes, great! And there is just something really cool and badass about being one of the world's mightiest heroes, fighting evil alongside a mythological Thunder God, Super Soldier Steve, and a Giant Green Smash Machine. But spending an hour with Loki cooped up in a cramped jet? Forget it. He'd rather be the Merchant of Death again. At least then he could hear himself think.

Seriously though. If Tony thought _he_ was talkative, Loki seemed to be single mindedly determined to one-up him, like he was on a mission to drive Tony out of his mind by any means necessary: topics ranging anywhere from the shitty technology of "this piteously archaic excuse for a planet" to in depth criticisms of Tony's personality, life-style, history… really everything he could think of. Of course, Tony fought back. By the time they landed, Tony was genuinely concerned that Cap was going to explode from some sort of excessive buildup of annoyance and pissed-off-ness. He pictured the headline in the paper: _Captain America Spontaneously Combusts. Prime Suspect: Tony Stark and Loki's Incessant Chatter._ Okay, maybe it wouldn't go quite like that. But still.

"Remember when we captured you in Germany, and you practically refused to say a word the entire ride to S.H.I.E.L.D.? Yeah, let's do that again."

Loki smirked; there was no restraining his sarcasm at this point. "Would you like me to rip your eye out too? Maybe some grandiose speech about freedom? You know, for old times' sake?"

That's it. When they landed, the first thing Tony was going to do was hunt down Thor and get that old muzzle back again. There was only room for one sarcastic asshole in the Avengers facility. His money, his facility, his dibs on being the resident smartass.

After what felt like hours of verbal war with the God of Mischief, the quinjet finally touched down. Thank God. Tony grabbed one of Loki's arms, wrenching him to his feet with unnecessary force. Together he and Steve marched the demigod down the ramp, the view of Avengers Tower hovering over them. There had been some question as to where to contain Loki. S.H.I.E.L.D. had fought to take custody of the criminal, insisting that it was their job. However, it was also decided that the best way to monitor Loki and ensure he behaved was to keep him under the watch of the Avengers. And what better place than the current residence of Earth's Mightiest Heroes? Still, deep down Tony couldn't help but wonder if this was exactly what Loki wanted.

As they led (dragged) Loki through the facilities doors, Tony couldn't help but notice the weariness and unsteadiness of the demigod. His logic told him that Loki was very likely pulling some kind of trick, an illusion, to manipulate them. And yet, he couldn't stop his mind from wondering what Loki could possibly have encountered to mess him up so much. What other threats were out there that could intimidate a powerful Asgardian into seeking aid from enemies, and risk imprisonment?

Tony and Cap took Loki straight to the space S.H.I.E.L.D. had set up in the facility; a strictly monitored, carefully sealed room containing only necessary medical equipment. His own personal, carefully guarded sick bay. It wasn't the most secure place, but it was the best they could manage on such short notice. Besides, every second Loki would be under careful guard by at least one of the Avengers. Bruce was already awaiting them in the room when they entered. Upon seeing the doctor, Loki stiffened, an anxious scowl twisting his features.

It took all of Tony's willpower to not burst out laughing. "What's the matter, Reindeer Games? Not glad to see Dr. Banner?"

Loki didn't respond, but sent a glare in Tony's direction that the genius would swear could have frozen water or withered plants.

The Captain spoke up then. " _You_ wanted medical attention, Loki. Dr. Banner's a well trained medical professional. If there is anything that we can do for that wound, Dr. Banner will do it."

Okay, so maybe Tony let out a small chuckle at the indignant look on Loki's face. Oh how he loved to see him knocked down a peg!

"Good luck Rudolph!" Tony smirked as he and Cap exited the room, Loki's furious gaze following them out.

"Ow!" whined Tony, rubbing his head from where Natasha had just smacked it. After dropping Loki off in his room/cell with Bruce, the rest of the Avengers, along with Nick Fury and Maria Hill, had convened in the conference room to discuss the unexpected events.

"You know, it would be great if for one second, you could actually pretend to be serious," she snapped at him. Natasha had become very touchy and sensitive since the sudden reappearance of Loki. Not that Tony could blame her; he had been a real bastard towards her.

"I'm just saying, Heimdall's the all seeing, all hearing guy right? If we could just yell loud enough, get his attention—"

"I'm pretty sure volume doesn't matter to an all hearing god, Tony," said Cap.

"Well, I don't see you all coming up with any better ideas to contact Thor! It's not like we can keep holding Loki forever. The sooner we get that psycho back to Asgard, the better."

Fury spoke up. "We are in contact with Dr. Foster. She has assured us that she will let us know the moment she gets word from Thor. And she seemed pretty certain there was no other way for us to contact him from Earth. We're just gonna have to handle this on our own."

"Right, like we did on the Helicarrier. Face it, Fury, it's only a matter of time before Loki sets whatever he's planning into motion. The guy's the _literal_ god of trickery."

Natasha responded, sounding weary. "Tony, we all know the danger Loki poses. But until we can return him to Asgard, we don't have much choice but to play his game. Unless you recommend we release him into the general public."

Rhodey spoke up suddenly, previously silent next to Steve's friend Sam. "Wait, so you said Loki's power thing is, uh, illusions right? But they're not real. Shouldn't Bruce be able to tell us if he's faking or not?"

Fury sighed, exhausted. "I'm afraid we don't know much about Loki's abilities. Who knows how convincing his magic can be."

"So do we have _anything_ we can do, or all we all just sitting around waiting for him to strike?"

" _What we can do_ is try to figure out Loki's play before it's too late. Captain, Loki came to you. What are you thinking?"

Cap took some time to answer, seemingly formulating his thoughts. He had a kinda strange look on his face, and Tony found himself wondering what exactly his babysitting hour with Loki had been like. "I'm not so certain Loki's lying about being injured. Sure looked pretty damn real to me— _Not a word, Stark!"_

Tony's reprimand ( _language!_ ) turned into a chuckle.

" _Anyway_ , I was questioning Loki about some stuff earlier, and he seemed… well, he seemed pretty unprepared to be honest. Like he was lying, but he didn't really know where he was going with the lie. Now maybe that was just some more trickery, but I think it's at least worth considering that Loki might be somewhat sincere. I mean, think about it. What would be the point of revealing himself to us? Before was different, we already knew he was out there; we were prepped to fight him. But now? If he needed to infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Avengers facility, wouldn't it be easier to just disguise himself as one of us? There's got to be a lot more potential for staying in the shadows than announcing his presence to every person that could stop him. He's completely given up the element of surprise. I'm not saying he's telling the truth, because he has some major flaws in his story. But maybe he's here for a completely different reason, something we haven't even thought of yet."

Silence fell, each of the Avengers contemplating the Captains' words. Tony noticed vaguely that Vision and Wanda both had not spoken a word since entering the room. He was about to ask them their thoughts, when Vision spoke up.

"The Captain is right. It would be wise to view the situation from all possible points of view and possibilities before making any assumptions."

"Well then, what the hell does a power hungry, ruthless alien want if not to conquer the world?"

"Protection." The word dropped out of Natasha's mouth suddenly, revelation underlying her voice.

All eyes turned upon the assassin, confused, questioning, unsure where she was going with this. Fortunately, Natasha wasted no time in explaining.

"No, listen. Let's say Steve is right, and Loki really is injured. He had to have been hurt by something."

"'Murderous aliens'" Tony interjected, the words reverberating in his memory.

"Maybe. Definitely some enemy though. And my bet is if they can make Loki look that screwed up, they've got to be powerful. And what do you do when you're being pursued by a dangerous enemy? You seek shelter, protection."

"But why us?" questioned Sam. "What makes him think we would help him at all?"

"What choice does he have? He can't go to Asgard, that's for sure. We don't know about the rest of the galaxy, but it's fair to assume that anyone else strong enough to protect him is also strong enough to hold him long enough to get him back to Asgard. We don't really know if we can do that."

"So basically you're saying Loki is leeching off of our power," Tony summarized. "To get to him, they have to go through us, type thing. Sneaky bastard."

"Assuming its true," argued Fury. "We don't know what the hell Loki's planning. You've got some good points Romanoff, but I'm still calling bull on the wound."

The comments rushed out in torrents then, one piling onto another.

"I'm telling you, it looked real to me."

"Maybe we should just wait for Banner's input."

"I want to know why we aren't talking about preparing a defense. If something's coming, we should be ready for it."

"If I could just interrogate Loki—"

"How about we just push him off a cliff. I like that idea."

"Shut _up_ , Stark."

"This bickering is counterproductive. We need to focus."

"What we need to do is talk about what we screwed up last time, so it doesn't happen again."

"Maybe he is after the mind stone."

The speed at which the rest of the room shut up following Wanda's statement was actually quite astonishing; all heads turned suddenly toward Vision, the yellow gem gleaming upon his forehead.

"He just might…" murmured Tony, gears turning. How Loki expected to get it was a mystery, but it might explain his presence…

The start of Tony's musing was interrupted ( _rather rudely_ , he thought) by Fury.

"Okay, look. We've heard a lot of good points. Maybe he's using us as some kind of twisted body guard, maybe he wants the stone. But until we can get some more info, these are only speculations. Natasha, you're up for interrogation… he'll be expecting some tricks, so try to play against his expectations. Throw him off. Rhodes, you're right, we need to set up defense for any potential attacks. You, Tony, Captain, you head that up. Last time we failed because we turned on each other, lost sight of the goal. Not this time. You got a problem, you work it out. And I want eyes peeled for _anything_ that seems even _remotely_ off. Understood?"

There were nods all around, except...

"So is that a no on pushing him off a cliff, or…?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't really have anything to say in this author's note. Here's chapter 3. Enjoy and review!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor anything from Marvel.**

Loki was not having a good day. First, he gets impaled by those wretched creatures. Then, he's forced to completely demolish every last scrap of his shredded dignity to plead help from the oh-so-noble Captain. _Plead_ , could you believe it?! Like a pitiful _beggar_! On Midgard none the less; the scrubby, miserable backwater of the galaxy. And now, having spent over an hour in that wretched jet with that insufferable Stark, Loki gets the wonderful treat of spending some nice relaxing time with the furious monster that had humiliatingly pulverized him into the ground.

Loki glared at Banner, for once unsure of what to say. The silence stretched between, unbearably awkward, as Loki tried to push from his mind that awful memory of being so easily smashed. It wasn't that it had done all that much damage to him; he sure recovered quickly enough. It was more the absolute humiliation of the whole ordeal. He was the prince of Asgard, had been the King, possessed tremendous power and intelligence. He was of the highest class in the pinnacle of advanced civilization, and had lived over a thousand years spent being trained in combat and strategy. And yet, that Banner, a mere _mortal,_ had defeated and insulted him without so much as breaking a sweat. Swung him around like a feeble rag doll! Loki felt heat rush to his face in shame at the reminder of what was easily the worst experience he had on Midgard.

Banner, for his part, seemed equally unsure of what to say. He awkwardly twisted his hands, offering a pathetically appeasing smile towards the angry demigod. Loki felt slightly more confident at seeing Banner's discomfort, and strode towards the doctor, never once dropping his glare.

Okay, perhaps strode was a generous word. More like, he-tried-his-best-but-inevitable-stumbled towards the doctor.

Banner reached forwards to help Loki, but the demigod viciously shrugged him off. It was bad enough he needed to pretend like the doctor was healing him; he was definitely _not_ going to lean on him just to walk.

"So… I hope you're feeling a bit better?" began the doctor kindly once Loki had sat down upon the hospital bed. Loki snorted at his pathetic attempts to initiate conversation. What was he aiming at, reconciliation? The thought was laughable.

"Spare me your affable remarks, doctor. Neither you nor I have the slightest desire to 'chat'. Let us merely continue our mutual feelings of dislike and aversion."

Banner frowned at Loki's nasty tone, but did not silence himself. "Okay, fair enough. But you're gonna have to talk with me at least a little bit, if you want my help."

"Pray tell," sneered Loki, "why I would have to do that?"

Banner seemed to struggle to phrase whatever he was trying to say. "Well, you're not, you know, human. And they don't exactly give out PhDs in Asgardian anatomy and physiology."

Oh, right.

Loki opened his mouth to speak, but his voice died as a dreadful, horrifying thought befell his mind.

 _I don't know my own body._

Loki knew all about Asgardian anatomy. For hundreds of years he had studied the biology of the Aesir, dedicating countless hours to committing the knowledge to memory. He knew all of the organs, the systems, the workings. He had even learned a small amount of healing from the palace healers.

But Loki was not Aesir.

He was Jotun.

Loki felt as though ice had settled and culminated inside of him. Inside of him… what did that even mean? The Jotun and the Aesir, along with the rest of the dominating species of the nine realms, had similar biology—this he knew. But what of the differences? What strange components lurked inside of him, bizarre and monstrous and alien? He had not the slightest idea what he was even _made_ of. Loki shut his eyes, the haunting image of his own blue skin seething behind them… _a freak_ , he thought viciously. _A monster_.

 _What am I?_

The question he still had no answer to…

"You okay?" inquired the doctor, pulling Loki out of his awful reverie. "I mean, if you—"

"I can't help you doctor." Loki's voice was completely devoid of emotion. "The basic anatomy should be similar. That is all I know."

"Okay, well what about stuff like blood pressure, body temperature, heart rate? I can't know what's wrong if I don't know what's normal."

" _Well I don't know what is normal!"_ Loki snarled, the old hurt flaring inside him. He immediately deflected his eyes away, pushing down the surge of emotion. Whatever happened to his impeccable poise?

Banner for his part was silent, clearly bewildered as to the alien's reaction. Taking a rare and minute bit of sympathy for the mortal, Loki explained in the most abridged way possible, voice clipped. "I am adopted. You know this already. I know Asgardian biology just fine, but I am not of Asgard."

"But how does that—" Banner cut himself off, realization dawning in his eyes. "…Oh. Okay, then. I guess… I guess I'll just do my best."

"I guess so." Loki snapped, wishing more than anything for this damned conversation to end. For this whole experience to end.

 _But then what?_ A, subliminal, cursed voice in his head insisted. _What comes next when this is over?_

 _Shut up_ , his conscious voice shot back.

The doctor began his examination of Loki. He checked his vitals using a variety of bizarre mortal instruments, frowning and muttering to himself the whole time. Though he clearly intended his muttering to go unheard, Loki's sharp alien ears caught every word.

 _"Taking vitals, like that's gonna do any good. Don't even know what I'm looking for."_

" _79 degrees? That can't possibly be right."_

 _"The hell kind of blood pressure is that?"_

Loki tuned the rest of the doctor's mumblings out, turning his focus onto the room around him. It was pretty plain, with white walls, basic tile flooring, and little decoration. There was no furniture other than the bed he sat upon, and no appliances other than the medical equipment surrounding him, and a small television upon the wall. Loki found himself wondering what exactly this room was supposed to be for. Was it simply a spare room, meant for just this type of emergency? The door was solid steel, with a deadbolt locked tight and hastily assembled security sensors surrounding it. There were cameras all throughout the room, keeping a close eye on the slippery alien demigod within.

Loki smirked at the Avengers' precautions to contain him. As if petty mortal security could ever hold him. He pictured getting up right now, ripping the steel door off of its hinges, and walking right out of the facility. Of course, he would have to get past the Avengers themselves, which would be a significant challenge, especially with his energy so low, but he nevertheless felt joy picturing the looks on their faces at his flippant acts of strength. After spending his entire life living in the shadow of a bigger, stronger older brother, it was a nice relief to be among mortals whose strength paled to his own. Except for that Banner, of course.

"I'm surprised you're even willing to let me examine you, mindless beast that I am," Banner quietly stated, now having began his inspection of Loki's wound.

Pulled out of his contemplation, Loki sent a bemused glance toward the doctor. Banner sounded strangely bitter; clearly his previous friendliness had merely been hiding his suppressed resentment. Loki supposed he couldn't blame him—he did attack his world after all. And yet, Loki found himself confused by the doctor's choice of trespass to bring up.

Loki's voice was calm and matter of fact when he spoke. "I don't think you're a mindless beast."

"Could have fooled me," Banner laughed, humor and anger mixing together in a strange combination.

Loki simply shook his head. "I'm insulted—you must think me a moron, doctor. I can see clear as day that in _this_ form you are as rational as any man. I'm not blind. Before, I was playing a role. Clearly rather well, if it fazed you so much."

"Oh," said the doctor, blandly. "Guess that makes sense."

"Sorry if I hurt your feelings," Loki sneered, unable to help himself.

Banner looked irritated. "I'll be okay. You're still a jackass."

Loki smiled at the rare insult that fell from the doctor's mouth, but the conversation continued no further, as the doctor continued his work and Loki absentmindedly observed him. He mind traversed a variety of subjects, none dwelled on too deeply. He considered the doctor's perception of his words and actions, leading into a shallow pondering of the Avenger's overall feelings towards him. It was strange, though not necessarily new, to be among people who despised him so thoroughly. His brain quickly moved on, Thanos briefly flickering across his mind, the accompanying surge of hatred intense and sudden. Then his brother, Asgard, Jotunheim, Odin, his recent escape; all passed through his thoughts, discarded before the emotions underlying them could be felt too bitterly. The time ticked by fast, the clock far ahead of his own time perception. He was rather surprised when Banner pulled away, having finished examining and changing the bandage on Loki's wound. Loki focused his attention on the doctor, dismissing his current topic and reorienting himself into the here and now.

"So what do you think, doc?" he inquired, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Am I going to live?"

"You wanna know what I think? I think you'll be fine. I can already see signs of healing, and the bleeding has mostly stopped. I think you didn't need a damn thing from me, Loki, that's what I think."

Loki frowned. He would have liked his excuse to hold up for a bit longer, but this was ultimately inevitable. He briefly cursed his rapid healing, before feeling thankful that the doctor found nothing unusual in the wound. He could not deny the nagging fear that there may have been some kind of poison tingeing the blade. Loki still felt the complete fatigue and weakness left behind from his arduous escapade, but it was comforting to know that physically he was healing. Surely the return of his physical health will be followed shortly by the return of his energy. He was rather sick of the feebleness of his movements and his magic.

"Your vitals were… weird. I know, I know, you aren't familiar with what they should be, but your body temp is a good 20 degrees lower than a human's, which is... disconcerting, to say the least."

"Makes sense. My… species… inhabits a cold world. I should have a very low body temperature. I'm sure the rest are fine, too, strange though they may seem to you. I feel reasonably okay, at least. Just tired."

Banner frowned, considering. He clearly wasn't pleased by Loki's response, and seemed to be pondering quite intensely. It didn't take a genius to tell what he was wondering.

"You want to know why I am here, really," sighed Loki, already tired of all of the suspicion.

"Would you even tell me if I asked?"

"No. It's not… a _bad_ reason. Not that you would, or _should_ , believe me."

"If it's not bad, why can't you tell me?"

Gods, Loki was sick of this. He knew he would have to face all of this questioning eventually, when the Widow came to interrogate him. Still, he would rather delay this conversation till then. Give him a bit more time to get his thoughts together. Already, he had miserably failed at answering the Captain's questions. Internally, he scowled. It wasn't his fault. Sorry if in the fifteen _damn_ seconds he had to choose a place to turn to after escaping that bastard Titan he didn't come up with an elaborate plan and story. God of lies he may be, but god of impeccable and impossible improvisation abilities? Not so much. Oh, well. At least he had a few minutes now to think on and organize his answers.

The thought had barely passed through his mind when the deadbolt slid back and the Widow glided into the room. So much for time. Loki supposed it was his fault; he had wheedled away the precious moments he had pursuing useless thoughts and painful topics. Damn exhaustion. His mind was all over the place, focus drained and cleverness all but nonexistent. Damn exhaustion, damn Thanos, damn Banner, damn Widow, and, more than any, damn himself. Stupid mistakes and pathetic lies. Figures that his quick wit, the one thing he could always rely on, would be stolen from him the moment he needed it most.

Loki supposed he was a fool to have expected any less.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the late update, I couldn't find the flash drive this story was on. This chapter was particularly difficult to write... I doubt anything I could invent would be half as clever as what Natasha would actually do in an interrogation. Also, the next chapter might be a while coming, I've got a lot on my plate with college applications and my classes.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything that Marvel already owns... obviously.**

Natasha paused before the temporary containment room, collecting her thoughts and centering her emotions. She pushed aside all of her rage and hatred for the alien behind the door—such blinding feelings had no business in an interrogation. Natasha had always prided herself on her poise and control; these were the qualities that made her the skilled interrogator she was. No man, or alien, or god, was going to throw her off.

She slid back the deadbolt and slunk into the room, a cat stalking after its prey.

Inside, Loki was sitting upon the small cot in the center of the room, Banner standing a couple feet away. Loki looked just as he had upon the quinjet; his hair and clothing hung in disarray, his gaze was sunken and tired, and a white bandage encircled his torso. Natasha hoped that his state was not merely an illusion—it would be a hell of a lot easier to deal with Loki if he was off his game. Already, the option of trickery and playing upon his ego was off the table; no doubt he would be expecting it, looking for it. She would need every advantage she could get if she wanted to decipher the Asgardian's intentions.

Loki's face twisted into a mask of anger and annoyance, one that perfectly mirrored Natasha's own inner feelings. She snorted internally (only internally, her face remained impeccably blank)—if anyone had the right to be irritated and furious it was herself, and the rest of the Avengers.

She strode into the room, exuding confidence; as Banner passed by her on the way out, he slipped a note into her palm. She unfolded the paper, reading the messy scrawl:

Injury real, not fatal. Never was. Healing fine.

An imperceptible smile touched Natasha's lips at the note, her theory looking better by the second. She tucked the paper away, noting the way Loki's eyes trailed after the note, interest glinting behind them. Natasha had no doubt he had a fairly good idea of what Bruce had written. They flickered up to her face, a slight tightening confirming her suspicion.

Loki's initial surprise at her entrance faded, and his expression smoothed into an impassive facade to rival Natasha's own. Natasha scrutinized every aspect of the Asgardian—posture, visage, demeanor, and the minutest details that her years as a spy had trained her to detect. Natasha had to admit, the guy was good. Loki gave nothing away; his posture was relaxed, his mien one of ease and neutrality. There was not a sign of nervous ticks, or anxious twitching. If Natasha didn't know better, and if Loki hadn't let his guard down but seconds ago, she would think he was here for a pleasant chat with a friend. As she contemplated the man before her, Loki spoke, his voice like silk, smooth and pleasant, flowing from him like gentle water.

"Agent Romanoff. Here we are again… I hope you are doing well?"

Natasha allowed a tiny smile onto her face. If Loki wanted to play at geniality, so be it.

"To be honest, I've been better. I suppose the same could be said for you." Her voice was mostly pleasant, yet with cold sarcasm seeping into her tone. She had no doubt Loki would pick up on it.

"I suppose so," Loki paused, and Natasha waited patiently for him to continue. "But I've been worse. Your hospitality does you credit."

Natasha narrowed her eyes at the slight irony tingeing Loki's voice, but couldn't deny the sincerity mixed within. In truth, Loki had been treated far better than he could have been, considering. Natasha wondered what ethics other species throughout the galaxy had concerning enemies and prisoners; she doubted they were as gracious as their own. Although, whether he meant the comment derisively, Natasha couldn't be certain.

Seeing her opening, Natasha decided not to waste anymore of their time on pointless chit chat. "I suppose that's why you're here? The hospitality?" Despite her sardonic tone, Natasha meant the question in complete seriousness.

Loki appeared irritated at the change in direction, but said not a word.

Natasha decided to start playing her hand; with Loki on the watch for every subtlety and trap she could throw at him, it would be extremely difficult to trick him again. Perhaps a less experienced wordsmith could fall prey to her twice, but Loki was no fool. He knew the ways of a silver tongue, the delicate game between interviewer and interviewee. His arrogance had cost him dearly the last time, too proud and cocky in his schemes to pay Natasha much credit. And yet, even in his failure he had given little to Natasha—merely a minute fraction of a much bigger plan, a bone for the Avengers to play with but nothing too detrimental to his schemes.

With subtlety and deception off the table, Natasha was left with very little to work with. She remembered Fury's words: _he'll be expecting some tricks, so try to play against his expectations. Throw him off._ If Loki was prepared and on guard for trickery, then he would get the exact opposite of that. It was a risk, but Natasha felt confident in her arsenal of theory. She smiled, allowing her confidence to shine.

"Or perhaps it's more than that. Nasty wound you've got there, Loki. Where'd you get it?"

One of Loki's eyebrows quirked up slightly. "A scuffle. Small disagreement, spun out of control. It happens."

 _Yeah, right._ "It happens? Sure it wasn't from something… bigger?"

"I think I would know if it was." Loki's tone was calm, but laced with chill.

Natasha contemplated the Asgardian's voice before speaking... he was oddly stiff and cold about the whole thing. Gone was his merry mockery and snide sarcasm- replaced with a bitterness and warning that could only come with an extremely sensitive topic. Not that Natasha was going to soften up because of it. "Hmmm… you know what I think, Loki? I think you're here for protection. I think something big and bad is after you, and you're desperate for a nice little safe house."

Natasha knew she was right the moment she spoke. The change in Loki's face was miniscule, nearly undetectable. She doubted even she would have noticed had she not been looking for it. His face tightened the tiniest fraction, eyes narrowing by a small degree, a look of cold surprise passing vaguely across his face. When he spoke, his voice was just the least bit stiff and cracked.

"And why would you think that, good Widow?"

"Enough games, Loki. Injured? Needing medical aid? The lie you cooked up is a weak one. I know it and you know it. You're fine, always were gonna be. Now how about you tell me why you're really here?"

Loki responded almost too quickly. "How do you know I'm not here on some malevolent scheme?"

Natasha responded just as fast, echoing Steve's words from before. "And announce your return to every person who could stop you? Completely give up the element of surprise? You're smarter than that, Loki. If you wanted to infiltrate us, there are thousand ways to do it without revealing yourself, especially considering _your_ talents."

Loki said nothing, his face a sculpture of stolid deliberation. The silence stretched between the two, the snake and the spider, a battle of wills. Yet no worry nor hesitation passed across Natasha's mind. Loki had nothing, no hand to play, no story to weave. Even without her sly techniques and her sneaky traps, Natasha had the upper hand. This was never a war of wits, not like the last time had been—it was merely a matter of when Loki realized he was backed into the corner with no way out. A corner he himself had sought, in danger and desperation.

Or so Natasha was gambling on.

Loki's quiet contemplation continued, and Natasha's patience was starting to wear—a fact she kept carefully concealed. Still, if Loki was determined to remain quiet, she wasn't going to stand here all day getting nowhere.

A slightly sadistic smile twisted Natasha's face, as she prepared to play the card that would decide her success or failure. "Fine. You don't have to talk. We'll just get you out of this facility and we can all go on our merry ways."

Loki smirked, voice infused with a cruel spite. "Oh I won't be leaving here. Kick me out if you want. I'm sure after a few days you will find that to have _not_ been the wisest choice.."

"Whoever said we would let you stay on Earth?"

"As if Asgard—"

"I never mentioned Asgard."

Loki eyes narrowed fiercely in confusion. No longer attempting to conceal his thoughts behind his stoic mask, Natasha could see the perplexity stirring behind his eyes. It lingered for a second, as Loki took in the implication in Natasha's words—and then was immediately replaced with a look of horror. The emotion flickered away the same moment it came, the trickster's face once more settling into its calm default.

"You're bluffing." Two words—all it took to confirm Natasha's theory.

"Am I?" The spider waited patiently, knowing what Loki now knew; he had no room left to lie. Honesty was all that was left on the table.

"You can't even contact _Asgard_. You have neither the means, nor the knowledge to…" Loki trailed off, still hesitant to admit Natasha's accuracy. Damn god was going to drag this out as long as he could. Fine. Natasha had no problem finishing his sentence for him.

"Throw you to the sharks?" she concluded. "Those… what did Stark say? 'Murderous aliens'?" Natasha quirked up an eyebrow at the fear in Loki's eyes.

"They are looking for you aren't they? It's why you're here. Well, I can promise you one thing Loki. If you think for a second that we are going to stand here and protect you, you're wrong. Maybe we wouldn't kill you ourselves, but I don't have any problem letting someone else do it.

"You have two options. One, tell us who they are, and we _might_ help you." If these guys could frighten Loki, she doubted they would be allies to Earth. And if there was a threat out there, possibly coming to their planet, she wanted to know exactly what to prepare for. No way were the Avengers going to be blindsided again.

"Or two, you can be quiet. It's fine. But if your enemies come marching to our door, you can go right along with them." Now Natasha's strategy depended on only one thing—whether or not said 'enemies' were actually in danger of coming to the door.

"Well out of those delightful options," Loki grinned, a glint of insanity twinkling in his eyes. "I'll have to say… the second one."

 _Well, damn._

As Loki crossed his arms, a smug smile tugging at his lips, Natasha felt her stomach drop, and her guts clench. She had gambled… and lost. She had been so _sure_ , every movement and expression crossing Loki further confirming her suspicions. The horror that passed across his face when she first implied her threat… was that merely an instinctive fear?

She kept her face neutral, refused to allow the slightest bit of disappointment or failure to show. But she couldn't deny it—it was a blow. She had played her cards, but Loki held the Ace. They, whoever they were, weren't coming for him. She had been wrong.

Not that she could show that to Loki. He had called out her bluff… perhaps she could call out his.

"Worth a shot," she shrugged, allowing ease and indifference to relax her muscles. "You want to just wait here until Thor arrives, I'm not going to stop you. There's a T.V. to pass the time." She gestured towards the small flat screen on the wall, eyes examining Loki to see his reaction. Absolute blankness.

 _To be continued,_ she thought bitterly. Loki was shutting down completely now.

"Maybe Wanda was right. Perhaps you are just after that scepter you were so nice to leave us with last time."

She meant the comment as just a throwaway remark, if anything a snide quip at Loki's previous failure, a subtle reminder of the Avengers' power. Nothing significant or of substance, just a tiny jest to satisfy her frustration.

Yet, the minute the words left her mouth, the Asgardian's face underwent a complete transformation. No longer did the stoic mask hide his emotions, impressively impenetrable. Instead, they were writ across for the whole world to see- and what a sight. Loki's eyes widened, the gentle emerald of his eyes almost seeming to glow brighter with revelation and fear. He paled instantly, a feat Natasha would never have imagined possible, as pallid as he had already been. A sharp gasp had issued from his mouth as it slid open, and his entire expression froze in a statuesque horror. His eyes locked with Natasha, and the turmoil within them seemed to permeate throughout the room, freezing the miniscule droplets in the air and seeping into Natasha's skin, forcing similar horrifying emotions to swell within her.

 _So much for a failed interrogation._ Possible angles flashed in Natasha's mind to take advantage of the situation, but Loki spoke before she could decide on one.

" _What,_ " he hissed, spite and fear quivering within his voice, mingling in an unsettled slither that seemed to crawl up from the deepest, most hidden reservoirs of rage and fear. " _Did you say?"_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So, I lied about this chapter taking awhile. I found some spare time and it was pretty easy to write. Moral of the story: don't trust anything I say. That being said, the next chapter, if I write it as I plan to, will likely be very lengthy. Not that you should believe me. (Also, there's a not at all subtle Ant-Man reference in this chapter:D)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the particular way I combine words to form prose.**

Gently, the soft inferno of the amber sunrise spread across the rooftop of the expansive white facility, illuminating the tiniest crevices, spreading light into the darkest, most gloomy nooks. A gentle breeze caressed the awakening world, and the dew drops shimmered in a kaleidoscope of brilliant saffron light. It was a perfect morning, the temperature cool and refreshing, even the voices of stirring animals coalescing in a pleasing, natural harmony. Everything was still, and beautiful, and—

"I _swear_ , Capsicle, if one more _damn_ _gnat_ comes within five feet of me again, I will blast it to goddamn _Asgard_ with my repulsors."

And Steve was pretty much miserable.

He exhaled a sigh of the bitterest kind of regret, wrenching his eyes away from the breathtaking sight and forcing his mind back into reality. He gazed across the monochromatic white of the facility roof, eyes finally coming to rest upon the irritated billionaire standing but a few feet from him. He liked Tony, he really did, but the genius had an infuriating knack for spoiling Steve's peace and silence. He knew Tony had a deeper side to him, yet it was always so hidden behind snarky comments and an arrogant facade that Steve frequently found himself wondering whether the man ever just stopped and allowed his mind to think about absolutely nothing.

Which was exactly what Steve had been trying to do.

With his reverie shattered, all the thoughts and concerns that he had so desperately avoided came crashing down upon him. Loki was the obvious one- Steve still felt stirrings of dread at what destruction, intentional or not, the demigod might leave in his path. And of course there was Steve's nagging suspicion, persistent and unsubstantiated, that they were missing something crucial about the strange Asgardian. Steve could not quite form his misgivings, but they all seemed to stem from that one moment in his apartment, right before Tony had burst through the door. That second, Loki's haggard appearance, Natasha's suspicions- they created a deep unease within the Captain that hinted at danger to come.

And then there was Bucky...

Steve shook his head. Now wasn't the time to dwell on that.

"Well, all of the security sensors are functioning, I've got F.R.I.D.A.Y. on alert for anything out of the ordinary, and the weapons systems are in perfect working order..."

Tony stood up from where he had been bent over one of the many slyly concealed lasers installed upon the facility's roof. Steve stared at the panel concealing the weapon, feeling completely and utterly useless. He had many skills, from fighting, to leadership, to survival- but technology was definitely not one. All he could do was stand around awkwardly, listening to Tony go on about terms and concepts completely over his head, marveling at the stunning sunrise like a cliché romantic.

"Any threats, we should get a heads up the moment they come anywhere near this place..."

Steve snorted, stating the obvious problem belying Stark's hesitant tone.

"Right, because if a hole in the sky opens up right above Avengers facility and lets down an army of invading aliens, we're really going to need that two seconds heads up."

Tony pointed his finger threateningly at the Captain's chest, his face in mock affront. " _You_ need to stop being such a Debbie Downer, Spangles. You gotta think positive. Trust the tech, grandpa- and any big stuff, we've got the Earth's Mightiest Heroes for that."

 _Yeah that's a great outlook_ , Steve internally rolled his eyes. _If we get invaded by Chitauri, at least we're the only ones who could possibly put up any resistance. Comforting._

"Not to mention, I got some real new age stuff installed for stealth detection. I tell ya, Cap, nothing but an _ant_ is gonna be getting in here unauthorized."

"Yeah, well..." The Captain's eyes drifted away from his fellow Avenger, a slight abnormality in his peripheral vision leading them to slide up towards the sky. The corners of his mouth turned downward and his eyebrows furrowed at what they saw; the previously clear and scorching sky had darkened, a slight bluish tinge mingling with the fiery sky. Steve's thoughts immediately slid towards the Tesseract... but that couldn't be right. The Cube was on Asgard, locked away... was this Thor's doing?

Steve nudged the kneeling prodigy beside him, Stark's attention fully focused on double checking the nearest security sensor. Tony glanced up, eyes narrowing at the small, unusual storm brewing above them.

"Uh... did the weatherman call for creepy blue storms this morning?"

"Not on the weather channel I watch. I'm calling it in."

Steve had just pulled out the walkie-talkie he was carrying when an alarm began blaring beside Stark, F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice surrounding them. "Sir, I have detected an abnormality originating directly above the facility. Analyzing readings now, but they resemble those of Tesseract technology."

"Yes, thank you for that completely obvious information, F.R.I.D.A.Y." Stark mumbled, concern now evident upon his face.

Steve pressed down the talk button, his voice reaching the earpiece of every Avenger within the premises. "Uh, guys, we've got a problem. Bluish looking... thing... right above us. Possible portal. Code 7-1-Alpha."

As the swirling azure mess grew larger, Steve gripped his shield tightly, tense and vigilant, thoughts of defense swirling within his head. There was no longer any doubt in his mind- something was causing this mess, and no way it was of Earth. The voices of the other Avengers sounded in his ear, affirmations as the heroes set off to their predetermined positions of defense. Guns and lasers rose out of the roof at a command from Stark, and the genius, mind completely clear of jokes and mockery, began striding towards the roof access point to retrieve his suit.

He had barely gone three steps when the monstrous shock reverberated down upon the roof, bowling the Iron man, the Captain, and the top notch security to the ground.

...

" _You kept it?! The stone... is here?!"_

Natasha waited patiently, silent and still.

"You _fools_! Did you learn _nothing_ from your time with the Tesseract? You pitiful, dimwitted, arrogant, _creatures!_ "

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Loki's vehemence—for the entire interrogation, Loki had maintained an inimitable air of calmness and composure. Even in his brief moments of openness, he reached no emotion wilder than a dark iciness. Even in his flicker of horror, Loki had remained collected, ready to recall his haughtiness at a moment's notice.

Now Loki seemed to be doing his best not to strangle Natasha. He clenched his teeth, glaring at the Widow as though through sheer stare he could unravel whatever crazy motivations could possibly result in the Avengers keeping the scepter. His words churned with fury and fervor- and the slightest tinge of panic. Natasha dismissed away the confusion that clouded her mind at the Asgardian's reaction- half of interrogation was learning to adapt to any situation.

"Well that was an extreme reaction." She commented candidly.

"You want to see extreme?" Loki hissed, teeth gritting and expression equal parts scorn and ferocity. Spite and malice poured out with his voice, seething through the air and almost seeming to freeze the room."Trust me, you'll be seeing _plenty_ of extreme. Will _damn_ well have brought it on your _self_ as well."

Natasha quirked her eyebrows up, conclusions clicking into place."So who's after the scepter, Loki?"

Loki shook his head, turning away and gazing anxiously around the room as though he expected someone to materialize instantly before him. His eyes darted towards the steel door, the cameras, and finally back to the waiting Widow. They slid past her, becoming unfocused, as though he were seeing beyond the wall, or perhaps in another world altogether. As time ticked by, the fervor drained out of Loki's face, traces of composure once more lingering in his expression. When he spoke, his voice was empty and distracted.

"Matters not... he'll be here soon. There's nothing can be done about it." His eyes slipped shut, and something akin to despair slid across his face.

For the first time, Natasha felt a true stab of fear towards this mysterious entity. Horror, and rage, and bitterness were one thing- but dejection? That went against everything she knew and had gathered about Loki. And it quite frankly terrified her.

She leaned close to Loki, garnering as much sympathy and gentleness as she could muster for the alien she so intensely despised. Loki's eyelids slid open, and Natasha met him straight on, gazing deeply and pleadingly into the Asgardian's convoluted eyes. Normally so guarded and arrogant, they now held a frighteningly intricate mixture of emotions: fear and hatred, desperation and rage, bitterness and cruelty. They were insane and deadly, and sent a chill down Natasha's back that seemed to leave tendrils of ice in its wake, clutching at her heart and gut. And yet, she held steady, refusing to budge or back down from the alien glare. When she spoke, her voice was soft and entreating, a tone she never imagined she would use with the demigod- and one she was unaware Loki had not heard since his last words with his mother.

"Loki, _please_. We will help you, if you only tell us what is coming. Who is after the scepter? Why are they after it?"

Loki said nothing, and Natasha pressed on.

"Don't be a fool, Loki. If we share a common enemy, if your pursuer is a threat to this planet, then we will stop at nothing to defeat him. You know we will. But we need you."

Natasha was barely able to choke out the words. Though Loki's knowledge was crucial towards facing this threat, it still hurt to admit it. Still, she leaned back slightly, and the silence between them seemed to seep into every corner of the room, oppressive and apprehensive. Though it was only a few seconds that passed, the tension stretched it out into what felt like minutes. Finally, Loki spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper, an unsettling resignation highlighting his tone.

"His name is Thanos. He is insane, and if he gets a hold of that scepter, our doom will be that much more imminent."

"Doom?" Natasha questioned, excited at Loki's willing, and most unexpected, cooperation. When she had first entered this room, she would have been thrilled to sneak a clue out of Loki- never did she imagine she would garner his full collaboration. "Why? What is so important about the scepter?"

Loki's voice was dead serious, his words dropping into the air like lead bricks. "Its potential is far more vast and powerful than you could imagine in your darkest dreams."

A glance to the side, a slight hesitation.

"They are called infinity stones. For years, I thought them mere legend, a tale twisted and exaggerated through the course of time. Only recently has the legend sprung to life."

Eyes once more turned to meet the Widow's, hatred lingering within.

"There are six of them. Whoever possesses them all... would have complete, unparalleled control of the entire universe."

 _Great_ , thought Natasha sarcastically, despite the gravity of the situation. _Another universe conquering psychopath using Earth as a stepping stone to galactic domination._

 _What has my life come to?_

"So Thanos is after these stones?" She questioned aloud, anxious for answers, but wary of Loki's temporary willingness. Who knew what could compel the strange alien to shut down again.

"Obviously." Loki deadpanned. "I never thought you would be foolish enough to covet the gem for yourselves. Suppose I should have seen it coming, what with Stark being a part of your team."

"Where are the others?"

Loki waited awhile before answering; now that he had gotten over his initial fury and horror at the revelation of the scepter's whereabouts, he seemed to have regained his control and poise. Nevertheless, he still looked more wary and anxious than Natasha had yet to see him.

"I don't know." He said simply, eyebrows rising in apology. "I cannot help you with that. But I offer you advice, as I wish no more than you for Thanos to find success.

"Hide the scepter. Protect it with all of your resources. And the minute you can transfer it to safer storage, do so. You are probably too late. But it is worth a shot. It is your _only_ shot."

Natasha opened her mouth to direct towards Loki one of her many pressing questions, but was interrupted by a blaring alarm throughout the facility. Loki stiffened across from her, eyes once more darting to the steel door. Her earpiece crackled, Steve's voice echoing in her head.

 _"Uh, guys, we've got a problem. Bluish looking... thing... right above us. Possible portal. Code 7-1-Alpha."_

Loki sucked in a sharp gasp, but Natasha barely heard him over her own rapidly focusing mind. A portal... Thanos, no doubt. She glanced longingly towards the demigod, desperately wanting to wring as much information as she could out of him. But there was no time. Their enemy was here, and they would have to face him with what they had.

Natasha stood up, and sent back to Captain her confirmation that she had heard. She slid open the door, knowing Bruce would enter after she departed to keep an eye on the rogue and dangerous demigod.

She took a step across the threshold- and a massive shock drove through her body, paralyzing her limbs and slamming her into the ground.

The world _swirled_ around Natasha- confusion and disarray- bewilderment _clouding_ her thoughts... twisting her surroundings into... into... an impenetrable mess- blurriness and chaos.

The situation- the attack- seemed to _disintegrate_ before her. And yet, through the... the chaos- the disorder- cut one clear thought, one distinct voice that sounded- _peculiarly_ \- like Loki.

 _They are here._


End file.
